


the way you do

by genee



Category: Popslash, Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-09-03
Updated: 2007-09-03
Packaged: 2017-10-15 21:18:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/165021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genee/pseuds/genee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"Make me forget," Nick says, and Ronon would rather make him remember, but he's got time enough for that. For Nick, Ronon's patience knows no bounds.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	the way you do

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote the first bit of this a while ago for bettina as part of a ficlet request thingie. it wasn't what she requested at the time, and it actually still isn't, but the idea stuck with me nonetheless!

Nick stares out at the water, loss hanging all around him in a way Ronon's pretty sure he understands. Nick's not all that complicated, not really, and Ronon can almost always make him smile now, a quick touch, a hand on his shoulder, his thigh, his arm.

"You're allowed out, you know," Ronon says, standing right up close behind him, breathing in his scent. It had taken Ronon a while to realize that when he first came to Atlantis, to really feel like he wasn't a prisoner here, that there was a thing called free-time and he could use his however he wanted. He knows Nick knows this already, but with everything he's been through, it's easy to forget.

"Is there a beach, maybe? A place we can swim a little, soak up some rays?" Nick asks, sadness falling away as he turns around, his eyes shining. Ronon can't resist running his fingers through Nick's pale hair, can't resist the way Nick leans into his touch and presses his body closer, his breath on Ronon's skin warm and shivery. Nick is beautiful, and Ronon knows he'll be even more beautiful in the sun.

 

* * *

 

He wakes up sweat-soaked and terrified, sound caught in his throat and his head tucked into his knees. It's not unfamiliar, and Ronon knows better than to ask if he's okay. He's not, and that's plain enough. Even when Nick says, "It wasn't. It was about before, the crowds, the silence," Ronon just nods, presses his mouth to Nick's lips, his jaw, his throat.

Nick winds his fingers though Ronon's dreads and shifts against him, his dick soft and full against Ronon's hip, his throat bared. "Make me forget," Nick says, and Ronon would rather make him remember, but he's got time enough for that. For Nick, Ronon's patience knows no bounds.

 

* * *

 

Nick's family sold him out, sold him, and Ronon didn't know them, didn't know the circumstances, even, but he knew he would never forgive them, no matter what Nick said.

 

* * *

 

Nick said, "It wasn't them, they wouldn't, okay? It was my mother. She's. Whatever, she's fucked in the head. It was my fault, anyway."

"Your fault?" Ronon tried to think of any way at all that could possibly be true, not because he believed it, but because he wanted to understand. Nick's mother turned him over to a defense contractor that no one was supposed to know about, except somehow McKay did know, because Nick was here now, staring out at the water and shutting out the endless months he'd been experimented on before they'd found a way to pull him out. "What, for having the gene? Or because none of the others had it as strong as you?"

"Something like that," Nick said, and Atlantis wrapped around him a little closer, dimming the lights when Nick sighed and rubbed his eyes. Ronon slid his hand beneath the soft cotton of Nick's shirt, his fingers dragging against warm skin, against the raised edges of his scars. Nick tensed instinctively before he relaxed again, tipped his head back against Ronon's shoulder. They'd tried to weaponize Nick's genes in the lab Sheppard pulled him out of, tried to use him to create something that could never be, and Nick had submitted, had thought if he didn't they'd take his brother instead, take his sisters after that. "If they could've made it work, though, it might've helped someday. Saved lives."

"No," Ronon said, the sound of his voice fierce in the low light. Nick's mother had better hope he never found her, because if he did he'd snap her neck with his bare hands and never breath a word of it, not to anyone. "No," Ronon said again, softly, and Nick leaned into him a little more, wound his arms through Ronon's and held their hands against his chest. Outside the water lapped at the city's edges, and Nick breathed in time with the sound, amplified just for them.

 

* * *

 

Nick sings to the city and Atlantis sings back, a soft thrum that follows Nick around, sweet when he's lonely, warm when he's asleep. He's been here almost a year now, spends his days in the lab by choice, studying while they work, learning his way around these people, this place.

Zelenka says Nick's actually a lot like Ronon, but Ronon doesn't see it. Nick makes people happy, just by being himself. He walks into a room and it shines a little brighter, and Ronon knows it has nothing at all to do with his genes. It's just who he is, and even if Ronon doesn't know who Nick was back on Earth, he still knows this. He knows Nick.

Nick plays his guitar when he can't sleep, spreads Ronon's legs in the mornings, licks into his body in the middle of the afternoon. He drums his fingers on Ronon's shoulders, on his own thighs, on the edges of the tables in the mess; he finds new rhythms in the stutter of Ronon's hips. He hums in his sleep, gasps when Ronon sucks him, moans so sweet it makes Ronon's blood sing inside his veins, makes him proud, makes him want. Nick comes on Ronon's fingers, with Ronon's seed in his mouth, with Ronon's hips between his thighs. Nick comes with his eyes open and his skin flushed pink, and Ronon knows he sees who he is now, not just who he was.

 

* * *

 

"Take me swimming," Nick says, and Ronon agrees. Nick could go by himself, there's no real danger, but he never does. He always waits, even when Ronon's gone for days at a time, and maybe it's not his favorite thing about Nick, but it's got to be damn close.

 

* * *

 

Ronon knows he makes people nervous, but Nick's never shied away, never flinched, never so much as looked at him sideways, not once, not even in the beginning. Nick reaches for him when he laughs, throws his arm Ronon's shoulder whenever he's nearby, climbs into his lap when they're alone. Even when they'd first pulled him out of that lab, when he had no reason to trust Ronon, to trust any of them, when Sheppard first pressed Nick against Ronon's back and said _do not move_ , said to Ronon, _take him through_ , Nick had held onto Ronon like a lifeline, and Ronon has never let go.

"You make me feel safe," Nick says, like it's not a big deal, like it's not everything, and Ronon thanks him the only way he knows how, heat stealing across his cheeks and his heart in hands, and Nick's eyes light up like the sea.

 

 

\-- End --


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